Page 487 - war-and-peace

scended the hill at a trot, he no longer saw either our own or
the enemy’s fires, but heard the shouting of the French more
loudly and distinctly. In the valley he saw before him some-
thing like a river, but when he reached it he found it was a
road. Having come out onto the road he reined in his horse,
hesitating whether to ride along it or cross it and ride over
the black field up the hillside. To keep to the road which
gleamed white in the mist would have been safer because it
would be easier to see people coming along it. ‘Follow me!’
said he, crossed the road, and began riding up the hill at a
gallop toward the point where the French pickets had been
standing that evening.
‘Your honor, there he is!’ cried one of the hussars behind
him. And before Rostov had time to make out what the
black thing was that had suddenly appeared in the fog, there
was a flash, followed by a report, and a bullet whizzing high
up in the mist with a plaintive sound passed out of hearing.
Another musket missed fire but flashed in the pan. Rostov
turned his horse and galloped back. Four more reports fol-
lowed at intervals, and the bullets passed somewhere in the
fog singing in different tones. Rostov reined in his horse,
whose spirits had risen, like his own, at the firing, and went
back at a footpace. ‘Well, some more! Some more!’ a merry
voice was saying in his soul. But no more shots came.
Only when approaching Bagration did Rostov let his
horse gallop again, and with his hand at the salute rode up
to the general.
Dolgorukov was still insisting that the French had re-
treated and had only lit fires to deceive us.

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